


Human

by Anxiety_Elemental



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Illustrated, Junkenstein's Revenge AU, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 23:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Elemental/pseuds/Anxiety_Elemental
Summary: “I know what it’s like to lose parts of yourself.”(Or: The Gunslinger and the Swordsman have a talk)





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> My big projects are stalled and I need to post something, so have a little thing I wrote on a scrap of paper at work because I love Junkenstein AU shit.

Daytime in Adelsbrunn means a reprieve from the endless hordes. The castle defenders use this time to rest and recuperate, unsure if there will be another attack that night. They prepare all the same.

 

The Gunslinger is using this time to scout the castle ramparts. There had been some surprise attacks from this direction last night, and he would like to avoid that, should Junkenstein and his monsters attack again.

 

He pauses, leans against the wall and looks over at the distant village below, evacuated the night before. There’s a restlessness in his blood, an energy with no outlet, leaving him fidgety and anxious. He knows the feeling well by now, and that he’ll have to suck it up and live with it through the rest of the day and all tonight, whether or not he gets to fight any monsters. He fishes out a cigar and lighter from a pocket and lights it, anything that might clam him down. It’s been years but he still hasn’t gotten used to -

 

There’s a shape perched to his right and he turns quickly to spot a figure in dark clothes crouched on the wall next to him, lifeless demonic eyes boring into him.

 

The Gunslinger’s hand reaches for his weapon, before his brain catches up and recognizes the Swordsman. The Swordsman ignores the Gunslinger’s alarm, and hops down from the wall, completely soundless. Sneaky bastard.

 

 

“Could’ve at least said hello,” the Gunslinger grumbles, “What’re you doing out here?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the Swordsman says, standing up straight with his arms folded behind his back.

 

“I asked first,” the Gunslinger says with a slight pout.

 

The Swordsman laughs, voice muffled by the mask, “I suppose you did,” he says, and nothing else.

 

“Really?” the Gunslinger eyes him, “You’re not even going to tell me why you’re out here?”

 

The Swordsman tilts his head to one side, the motion makes the Gunslinger think of a curious bird, “You are suspicious of me.”

 

“Can’t say I trust you or your monk buddy all that much,” the Gunslinger says.

 

“My Master’s message can be difficult to understand,” the Swordsman says, “But he is not the malevolent force you may believe him to be. There is peace in emptiness.”

 

Weird, but the Gunslinger isn’t interested in discussing philosophy. He leans back on the wall to again stare out at the village beyond, the empty streets and vacant homes.

 

“It will be full moon tonight,” the Swordsman remarks, looking up at the sky.

 

The Gunslinger says nothing for a moment, glancing at the Swordsman out of the corner of his eye, before returning his attention to the village below, “Sure will be.”

 

The Swordsman turns his attention to the Gunslinger, “Will you be alright?”

 

Slowly, with exaggerated care, the Gunslinger takes the cigar from his mouth, and lets his right arm fall to his side, “What makes you think I won’t be?”

 

The Swordsman waves a hand by the side of his head, “It is difficult to spot with your hat and your hair, but your ears have a slight point. I don’t know much about werewolves, but - ”

 

The Gunslinger draws his pistol and points it right at the Swordsman’s chest “If you’ve told another soul I swear - ”

 

The Swordsman holds up his arms, but without any haste or urgency, “Not even my Master,” he says, voice calm, “I did not know if you had a plan, I did not want you to endanger yourself or others needlessly,” A pause, then, “I know what it’s like to lose parts of yourself.”

 

The Gunslinger lowers his weapon, but does not holster his pistol, “The Alchemist is an old friend of mine. She makes me a potion that helps,” He can’t use it every full moon,and he’s sick the day after, but it’s a lifesaver when he can’t avoid being around others.

 

“I was concerned for you,” the Swordsman says, “I did not come here to blackmail or intimidate you.”

 

“Coulda fooled me,” the Gunslinger mutters, “What with the spooky mask.”

 

“The mask is to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies,” the Swordsman says, “Are we enemies?”

 

The Gunslinger remembers the Swordsman last night, the shining blade slicing through metal, the bright dragon with long fangs, “I’d rather not be.”

 

“A fair answer,” the Swordsman says, amused.

 

The Gunslinger recalled when the Swordsman and the Monk first arrived at the castle. He hadn’t been wearing the mask but had been wearing a wide straw hat and his head wrapped in black cloth.

 

“You got a face under there?” the Gunslinger asks, realizing after he speaks that it was an invasive question.

 

The Swordsman is quiet at first, doesn't even move. “I cover my face so that others may look upon me without fear.”

 

The Gunslinger looks away, _I know what it’s like to lose parts of yourself_ , “Sorry.”

 

“I have made my peace with what happened,” the Swordsman says, and doesn’t elaborate.

 

The Gunslinger’s cigar has burned out in his hand, he drops it and crushes what’s left under his boot. The restlessness is creeping back up on him again, a need to move to run to do _something_. If nothing else scouting around the castle grounds might ease it somewhat, “Should go back to what I was doing,” he murmurs. After a hesitant pause, he adds, “I was taking another look around the area, could always use an extra pair of eyes.”

 

The Swordsman hums, “Looking to see where an ambush might be?”

 

“Pretty much,” the Gunslinger says, “Got some surprises from the ramparts, I was thinking - ”

 

Before he finishes the Swordsman dashes away and scrambles up a wall to perch on a nearby stone roof, “You should broaden your horizons,” he calls down, “What if Junkenstein were to invent a flying monster?”

 

“Aw, don’t do that!” the Gunslinger answers, “Last night was rough enough!”

 

“Don’t think you could handle that?” the Swordsman taunts, a smile in his voice.

 

“I didn’t say that!”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“If he tried that I’d just shoot it out of the sky!”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“You’re a jackass, you know that?”

 

The Swordsman laughs, bright and earnest, and before he can catch himself, the Gunslinger thinks it’s the loveliest thing he’s heard in a long time.


End file.
